


Cooperation

by Sifl



Series: Split [3]
Category: Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z
Genre: And yet, Divorce, Dubious Consent, F/M, Gohan tried to court a lady, Moral Ambiguity, failed sexual encounters, he did everything wrong, hilariously failed sexual encounters, in its own way, not really - Freeform, sort of, super powers, this is the strangest thing I have ever written
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-06 06:16:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5406128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sifl/pseuds/Sifl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gohan Son and his life are currently both a hot mess, and he ultimately decides that to fix it, he needs to make it even more complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sevoya

**Author's Note:**

> This installment is very different than the other two because it is written as a more dialogue-based narrative (and is also notably funnier, in a tongue-and-cheek sort of way) but, uh, is related.
> 
> Meet Sevoya, the man eater. And for those of you who read Heavy and already have, you'll know pretty well already what her angle is even in this AU where she was not lucky enough to meet Gohan in high school.

The man sat on a bench on the far side of the playground, his nose in a book, and unobtrusively supervised his daughter and her friends as they played. He did so every Friday afternoon from whenever he and his trio of little girls arrived- usually four o’ clock- to six on the dot.

Sevoya had looked him over many times as she scoped out the fathers lingering on the outskirts of the local playground, but had never approached him before. He seemed like he would be uninterested in what Sevoya was interested in him for, and so she had kept to seducing the other, actually married men who were much more obviously receptive to her charms.

Why did Sevoya choose to mess around with this particular demographic?

‘Cause good daddies who just want the adventure of a tryst but don’t actually want to lose their wives are not only clean, but also don’t tend to talk. That’s why.

Sevoya surveyed her options. The day was foggy and grey, and not many parents had shown up to let their kids play. And worse, the ones that had were mostly female. She looked over the two men in her vicinity: the newcomer silver fox pushing his daughter on the swings (probably a grandfather, and probably with ED) and the seated man reading on the playground’s outskirts.

Gohan Son, the man on the bench, was the superior choice out of today’s options, but he had also been Sevoya’s physics professor last year. That could be a recipe for disaster in and of itself, even though he was also, amazingly, the morally wholesome choice.

In her head, Sevoya laughed at the irony as she plopped down beside him and stretched her legs out into the rich brown mulch beneath the bench.

Gohan Son kept his eyes on his book and his daughter. “You should not be doing this, Miss Anillo,” he said. His voice was quiet, but convinced.

“Doing what?” Sevoya asked. “Sitting here? On this bench?” She grinned. “Oh, wait, I know. It’s how improper my posture is. Right.” She straightened up on her perch and put her legs in front of her, knees together. “Is this better, professor? Do I pass?”

“Please don’t pretend like this,” Gohan Son said. “It isn’t right of you to act as a catalyst for a marriage’s dissolvement, and you know it.” Apparently, Sevoya’s past professor had been keeping a closer eye on his old student than she had thought.

“Oh, so I’m the problem? Not the men with so little self-control that they actually take me seriously?” She crossed her legs. “Their marriage is their responsibility. Not mine.”

“It’s not good to prey on someone on whom others are depending just to satisfy your own whims,” Gohan Son said.

“So,” Sevoya said, flipping her hair so it fell around her shoulders, “it’s my job to make sure that I never, ever put myself in a position to even maybe jeopardize someone else’s wants and needs, in any circumstance? Just go along and be a doormat, with no interest and no spark, no drive for anything, ever? I know you’re into the sciences and not so much philosophy, but I expected you to be a lot smarter about breaking it all down. Professor,” she added.

Gohan Son turned the page of his book. “This is hurtful and wasteful in so many ways, and you know it. Stop.”

Sevoya rolled her eyes. “Really? Well. If you were still married, and somebody came along and picked you up- no blackmail, no strings, no diseases, no nothing, and took you home and made you feel good for a little while with absolutely no consequence or expectation, would you really pass it up?”

“Yes,” Gohan Son’s voice was a little meaner and more passionate than she had ever heard it.

Sevoya watched him more closely, and bit the side of her thumb. “Uh-huh. Well, I got news for you- the rest of the world isn’t as pure of heart as you are.” She stuck her tongue out at him. “And a lot of it is also still married.”

Sevoya earned herself a stony glare from the mildest, sweetest man she had ever met.

She grinned. “So. Now that we’ve established that somebody threw away the only good man on the playground, what do you say? You’re cute when you’re not busy being so sweet that it makes me sick.”

His answer was quick and low. “I have a daughter. And I am responsible for her and, today, her friends.”

Sevoya sneered. “Your first answer should have been, “I can’t risk the school finding out I slept with a former student who dropped out because I gave her a failing grade. It’s bad enough that the media and my workplace both gossip about me and how young I am, and how it impedes my daily life.” Which, really, how old are you? I saw you in high school at Orange Star, before you graduated early and got on the fast track to becoming a single dad. Your face hasn’t changed at all. Only your hair has, and that’s suspicious even if we are still barely babes who know nothing of the cruelty of this world.”

“You failed most of your tests, even after I added a curve,” Gohan Son ignored everything else she said.

“Oh, I know. And that’s not actually why I dropped out. I’m not mad at you.” Sevoya’s smile lit her eyes maliciously. She was going to win this. “What I’m saying is, those are the only real obstacles standing in your way- you know, the opinions of the people who pave your way through academia and the paparazzi who sometimes like to give bad PR and write about Videl Satan’s ex-husband when it’s a slow news day- and you did not even think about either of those things. You have a daughter, and that’s great. But so what? You don’t have a wife.”

“Please stop,” Gohan Son said, looking back at his book.

“Oh, but is Videl coming back?” Sevoya asked, leaning over to catch his eye. “ Well, your talk about morals today has certainly made me see the light, ‘cause that changes everything. It sure would be bad of me to try and get between that reunion nobody but the National Enquirer has mentioned for a whole year.” She laughed, but it was humorless. “I’m sure her dad will throw a big hullabaloo about the whole thing. The town will probably even celebrate the affair as much as when it changed its name to Satan City. Won’t that be fun?” She got up to leave, and slipped a piece of paper with her number and an address on it into the pages of his book. “And congratulations. I’m so happy it’s gonna work out for you.”

\---

A month later, her old professor was standing in the doorway of her tiny apartment, his hands clenched at his sides. Sevoya was still in the same clothes she had gone to work in, and they smelled like The Lucky Egg’s daily special.

“Hey,” she said, inviting him in. “Most people call first, but delivery is always good, too.”

“...Krillin and Yamcha encouraged me to come, and I knew if I called instead of just showing up, I’d never,” he looked at the ground like that was enough of an explanation. “They said that I should try the life of a single guy for awhile.”

Sevoya shut the door, locked and deadbolted it back how it had been before, and unzipped the back of her dress. It was the one she always wore to catered events because it fit the dress code and made her not feel so much like she was still working at her dad’s restaurant. “Cool,” she said. “None of that means anything to me, but cool.”

Sevoya wrapped her arms around Gohan Son and kissed him before he could keep running his mouth. He backed away into the closed door. 

“I’m,” Gohan said, “I shouldn’t have come. I-I’m sorry.” He reached for the doorknob, and broke the door when he forced it to turn despite the deadbolt and snapped the lock off of the wall when he pulled it towards himself.

Sevoya raised her eyebrows. She hadn’t thought her apartment to be rundown enough for everything to break so easily.

“I’ll, um, I’ll pay for that,” Son Gohan said. “I’m so sorry!” He tried to close the door back, but it fell back open.

Sevoya shrugged and dragged one of her heavier living room chairs over to the door and used it to prop it closed. “You want something to eat first?” She brought home food from the restaurant every day. Sometimes, she had even been the one to make it. Sevoya was basically every position all at once when she was not a manager.

Gohan Son looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “I,” he looked from the door to her. “Um,” he swallowed. “N-no, you don’t need to do anything for me.” His stomach growled in opposition.

Sevoya walked to the refrigerator and pulled out whatever she had. “I’ve got pork roast, potatoes, rice, a vegetable medley, uh…” she threw it all on the table and went to find more while Gohan deliberated over seating himself. “Eat whatever you want and compose yourself. Most of it I wouldn’t get to anyway since it’s,” she looked at the date written on the to go box shoved into the most remote part of the refrigerator, “a week old. Food is like the only thing I’ve got in surplus.” 

“That’s very kind of you, but it really isn’t necessary-”

Sevoya fixed a glass of water and handed it to him. “I’ll be back. I’m going to use the restroom.”

Sevoya was only gone long enough to brush her teeth and changed from her dress into a robe, but when she came back, all of her food had disappeared and Gohan Son was stacking her entire armada of empty styrofoam boxes into one another.

“I, uh,” he swallowed. “I suppose I’m a stress eater?”

Sevoya shrugged. “Leave all of the mess. It just means the kitchen table’s not an option.” She walked into the bedroom and turned around when she realized he was not following her. “Well?”

Her old professor frowned and shook his head. “This might not be such a good idea after all.”

Sevoya rolled her eyes and walked over to him. Her hands were unbuckling his belt before he could say anything about it. “Your goody-two-shoes routine is getting really annoying.” She pulled his hands into her robe and kissed him. When he froze up, she kissed his neck instead. “You act like this is some binding thing. Believe me, that’s a fantasy. It’s not.” Sevoya nipped at his neck and started unfastening the buttons of his shirt.

Gohan Son gasped as she bit his ear and pulled his shirt all the way open. Sevoya changed tactics to guide his hands over her breasts and hips.

“It’s not worth it if you’re not going to be any fun,” she told him, and made him start to squeeze wherever he touched. His face went from pink to red, but he was just as shy as before. “Are you such a wet blanket that you can’t even enjoy this kind of thing?” Sevoya looked for a weakness. “It’s no wonder Videl left you.”

Gohan Son looked like he’d been slapped, and Sevoya was ready to actually slap him if he did not fix his attitude.

She refrained. “Ugh. Fine. Come on,” she said, and dragged him over to the armchair propped against her front door.

“...It’s just that you’re not Videl,” Gohan said. “I don’t even really know who you are.”

Sevoya pushed him into the chair. “And I don’t really know who you are. And that is exactly why Yamaha and Villain told you to come,” she said, sitting in his lap and kissing him. “I’m a chick who is going to screw you and then you are going to walk away. That is the beginning, the middle, and the end of the story. It’s not hard.” She kissed him harder and thrust a hand just under the waistband of his pants. “You can pretend I’m Videl for all I care, but just don’t ask me to roleplay that situation with you for real. I hate pigtails, and I hate her family legacy.” Her tongue slid deeper into his mouth. “Her father is a fraud, and I don’t give a shit about your feelings on the matter, or what the news says. For all I know, everything she ever claimed and claims to be and do- even you, professor- could be a big lie!”

Gohan Son actually laughed at that. It was an odd sound, considering his expression.

“Whatever,” Sevoya said, taking off his glasses and tossing them on the floor. “This is my house and I’ll say what I want.”

Gohan Son nodded, and considered her. Whatever it was that had made him laugh had changed his mood considerably, because he gingerly moved Sevoya’s robe open a little more and timidly explored her body. His touches were soft and sweet, and incredibly slow to accelerate the mood.

Sevoya occupied herself with his mouth and nipples until she felt his interest finally grow from within his pants.

Gohan Son traced the contours of Sevoya’s inner thighs and then cast one splayed hand to her lower stomach and the other around to her back. He pulled her closer as he kissed her, and slid the hand on her stomach up to play with her left breast. When she ran out of breath, he sighed as she panted and then buried his face in her neck.

“You smell nice,” Gohan Son said, unpinning her hair from its claw to play with it and kissing the side of her jaw. “And you’re soft.” He breathed in Sevoya’s scent and wrapped one arm around her to pull her close. The other one pulled her right hand away from his groin so he could lace their fingers together. “I like just being able to be close to you,” he said, and kissed her cheek before pressing his nose into it. “Would you like to get to know each other as people before we do anything more?”

Sevoya wanted to gag from how utterly lovesick he became at the drop of a hat.

Instead, she pushed him away and held him down by the shoulders against the chair. He shyly smiled back at her and moved his hands to her waist.

“Can you just not do anything right?!” She said. “You don’t get all sappy lovey-dovey with a one-night stand.”

Gohan Son’s smile dropped from his face. “Who says this is a one-night stand?”

“I did!” Sevoya said. “Me! That was the whole point!”

Gohan Son blinked and searched the floor as if for answers. “But,” he said, looking back up at Sevoya, “why?”

That was the million dollar question. “People leave. That’s a fact. I don’t like to pretend it isn’t going to happen, so I set it up like this so it’s all up front.” Sevoya could not believe she was actually answering him. “I don’t bullshit people, and I don’t use them unless they are also getting to use me to. It’s fair.”

Gohan Son smiled. “Sometimes, people come back, you know.”

“Is Videl coming back?” Sevoya shot back.

His smile turned into a grin and he pulled himself closer to her face. “Why are you so concerned whether she is or not?”

“That was supposed to hurt you, not encourage you.” She tried a different approach. “So you’re just immediately over her now that you think you’ve got someone else. Just like that. This is how cheap your love is?”

Gohan Son shook his head, and Sevoya knew he was telling the truth. “No. Not at all. Please don’t mistake my efforts and affection for flippancy.” He sighed. “I’m trying. I’m supposed to enjoy this, right?”

It was beginning to dawn on Sevoya that “lust” on its own was not a subject her ex-professor knew anything about. This was like trying to hold a conversation where both parties spoke two entirely different languages. “Take off your pants,” she said, totally unenthused.

When Gohan Son only furrowed his eyebrows and uttered, “Why so soon?” Sevoya jumped off of the chair and did it for him, underwear and all. Then, she tossed them across the room and got on her knees. “You don’t have to do that,” Gohan Son said, flustered. “You said you wanted this to be fair, right?”

“Someone’s got to teach you what it means to be selfish,” Sevoya said. “Or in this case, how somebody conducts a fair trade, or when you bang somebody and it doesn’t mean anything. And if you sit there and start thinking, “Oh golly gee I’m in love with this girl maybe we can get married!” That means that I have to deal with all of your bullshit- can you imagine the headlines? “Videl Satan’s Ex Courting Anti-Savior Satan Conspiracy Theorist! How He’s Gone to the Dark Side Since His Wife Left Him! Exclusive Pictures of Gohan Son’s Personal “Lilith” Inside!” And worse, you have a kid. So I’ll do this for you, and you’ll do this for me after you wake up- you’ll leave, and you won’t come back.”

Gohan Son cocked his head. “People think you’re a conspiracy theorist?”

“Stop caring enough to ask!” Sevoya hissed, and licked his base.

Gohan Son stiffened in surprise- in every sense- and Sevoya used her hands and tongue to massage him so that he could not form sentences anymore if he wanted to. She heard his fingers dig into the arms of the chair and heard him moan every time she reached his tip with her tongue.

Then, she took a deep breath and swallowed him. Gohan Son gasped and she ran her fingers along his thighs and up to his chest while she held her breath and kept going. Soon, he sank lower into the chair and moved his hips closer to her head. Sevoya pushed on his waist with one hand to remind him to not start thrusting and used the other to tweak one of his nipples.

Sevoya heard the sound of fabric ripping and then of wood splintering as she grew more aggressive with him. At first, she had thought it was her imagination, but as the noises grew louder and more consistent, she knew there was nothing else they could be. Sevoya spat Gohan Son out before he was finished and cleared her throat. “What are you doing?”

Gohan Son was leaned back in the chair, heat waves practically rising from his body, and had pressed his hands into his seat hard enough to not only claw through the upholstery between his fingers, but to break the armrests themselves off of the sides. “Why did you stop?” he complained, panting.

“You broke my chair!” She said. “This was the sturdiest piece of furniture in the apartment! How did you do that?!” She looked up into his face and then noticed the broken doorknob to the right of his head. Something was strange about it. She stood up and leaned over him to take a closer look. Gohan Son reached up to stroke her stomach and try to gently pull her back down on top of him, but Sevoya brushed him off and stared hard at the doorknob in disbelief.

It was deeply indented everywhere Gohan Son’s fingers had touched it, like it were a piece of aluminum foil he had crushed in his hands. The door had indeed not been falling apart before, Sevoya realized; Gohan Son simply possessed an inhuman strength.

Gohan Son put his hands back on Sevoya’s hips and tugged again, more insistently. She slapped him away and scrambled across the room. “You… You!” She swallowed and tried to soothe her sore throat, “If you had been holding onto my head, you would have crushed me!” Sevoya began to wonder if Videl Satan, and by extension, her father, really did have the capability to consider someone like Cell a magician if she could withstand conceiving this man’s child.

Gohan Son sank even deeper into the chair. “I wouldn’t have crushed you. I’m careful about that kind of thing when I’m holding someone else.” He shook his head. “I don’t let myself get rough.”

Sevoya grimaced. “Say, that part of what everybody says is at least true. You’re the Great Saiyaman, aren’t you?”

Gohan Son nodded and sat up. “Um,” he tried to cover himself with his hands but instead winced and pulled away as he brushed up against himself, “please don’t tell anyone.”

Sevoya gave a dry chuckle. “Now you’re getting the idea,” she said. “But it’s too late. Get out of my apartment.”

“I… Oh…” Gohan Son looked down between his knees. “Um, are you not going to, um,” he had stopped panting, but maintained his rouged glow.

“No,” Sevoya said. “I’m not going to finish you. For all I know, my head could explode or something when you’re satisfied. Deal’s off.”

“That, um, that wouldn’t happen,” Gohan Son said, trying his best to hide himself with his knees. “Will, um, you please bring me my pants?”

“I’m not coming near you,” Sevoya told him.

Gohan Son’s smile was tight. “I see.” Suddenly, he disappeared from Sevoya’s sight and then reappeared with his back towards her, his pants inexplicably back on, adjusting his belt. 

“How did you do that?!” Sevoya said. “In fact, what did you just do? What the hell is going on?!”

Gohan Son opened the door out from behind the ruined armchair. “I’m so sorry for troubling you,” he said, and quite literally lifted into the air and flew away.

Sevoya was not sure if she needed a stiff drink or a CAT scan.

\---

The next morning, a soft knock on the door awoke Sevoya and, after struggling with the ruined furniture holding it closed, opened it to find Gohan Son, a new chair, a set of locks and hardware, and a stack of bento boxes.

“I told you not to come back,” Sevoya eventually said, after fighting a long battle with herself over whether or not she should close the door back up and scream until she blacked out. “That had been the deal.”

Gohan Son nodded. “But then you said the deal was off.” He timidly produced a bouquet of flowers from behind his back. They were about the same bright color as his face. “And, um, I wanted to apologize to you in person. Besides, um,” he winced and kept his eyes firmly rooted to his shoes.“I couldn’t think of a service that would carry all of these things to your doorstep on such short notice. And I, uh, I left my glasses here.”

“So now instead of Saiyaman you’re a delivery boy,” Sevoya muttered to herself, moving into autopilot and taking the flowers with stiff movements.

Gohan Son nodded and fell silent, his hand glued to his belt like he didn’t know what to do with it if it was not holding something. Suddenly, he looked up at her. “Actually, see, the thing is, I was the Delivery Boy first.”

“Excuse me, professor?”

Gohan Son twiddled his thumbs. “Gohan. Please just call me Gohan. And, um, you’re… You’re right. Hercule Satan never defeated Cell. I did. I’m,” he nodded to himself, like it was a good thing he tell someone this, “I’m the Delivery Boy.”


	2. Pan Hates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pan's father saved the world before she was born.
> 
> She doesn't know.

One day- a Wednesday, actually, when Pan was sick and her father had kept her out of school- the silence of the house was broken by a loud rapping on the door. Her father had stepped out for a moment to help Pan’s grandmother with something. Life insurance, maybe- that is what Pan thought she had heard him mention on his way out. It did not matter. She was bored of sitting around doing nothing, and so she answered the door.

The woman waiting on the other side had her purple hair pulled up in a lopsided bun. Her emerald earrings were the same cruel, cool color as her eyes.

“H’lo,” Pan said with a cough.

“Oh. Uh,” said the woman, “hi. You’re, uh, you’re Professor Gohan Son’s kid?” Her lipstick was bright, too, but her eyelids were painted dark.

Pan nodded and sniffled. Her father had told her not to answer the door when he was not at home, but Pan was plenty strong enough to defend herself if she needed to. More to the point, Pan hardly felt threatened as this stranger looked left and right, as if in search for a place in which to hide, and gave off almost no ki at all.

Yeah, Pan could handle this, no sweat. She was going to be a big girl soon, after all, and she should act like one.

“I’ve, uh,” the woman with the purple hair swallowed. “Is your dad home?” She tried instead.

Pan blinked up at her and pointed to where her grandparents’ house sat just over the hill. “He’s at grandpa Goku’s, helping.”

The woman balked. “Goku,” she said, “like, The Monkey King grandpa Goku? The Champion of The Twenty Third World Martial Arts Tournament? Lives there?”

Pan beamed through the trails of snot running down her face and nodded. This strange lady obviously had a clue, and that was surprisingly rare. “My grandpa Goku is the best.” She punctuated her statement by wiping her face on the back of her arm.

“God,” the woman said, putting her face in her hands. “I can’t believe this,” she said.

“You like to talk to Dende, too?” Pan asked.

“Excuse me?” The woman looked back at Pan, half-dazed, and with the beginnings of running makeup forming under her eyes.

“Dende. God’s name is Dende. I’ve been to the Lookout and met him. He likes books almost as much as my dad. I think that’s why they’re friends.”

The woman took a minute to stare blankly and then put her face back into her hands. “Oh my God,” she muttered. “Why did I have to go after him and get myself caught up in this?”

“His name’s Dende,” Pan corrected patiently and stuffily.

The woman glared at Pan, and her eyeliner was definitely running in rivulets down her face. “You’re sick. Go blow your nose and get in bed or something.”

“Go wipe your face,” Pan countered. She was the only one allowed to boss people around. Well, she and her mother and grandmother and aunt Bulma and Bra and aunt Eighteen. “And don’t tell me what to do! You’re not my mom!”

The woman was indignant. “You bet I’m not!”

“Yeah!”

“Exactly!”

“Exactly!” Pan parroted because it sounded better than “yeah”.

The woman grumbled and pulled out a tissue from her purse to wipe her eyes. “...So it’s that bad, huh?”

“You missed a spot,” Pan said instead.

“I’m sure,” the woman grumbled, pulling out a compact and using it to judge her own face for herself. “Look,” she started, I’m here because I was very rude to your dad and wanted to tell him I was sorry. And to return his glasses.”

This might be juicy. Bra was always describing possible gossip like this as “juicy”. Pan thought she learned the word from Marron, but it might have been from her mother. “Whadja do?” Pan sneezed out. “What did you do that was so rude?”

“I… slammed a door in his face while he was trying to talk to me.”

“That’s it?” Pan asked, emulating her inner Bra. “There’s no way that’s it. Tell me.”

The woman glared. “No.”

“Did you yell at him for not living with my mom anymore?”

The woman looked at Pan a little more seriously. “No. Why?”

“Oh.” Pan sniffled again. “Well, that’s what the media people do sometimes when they come to knock on the door. And grandma sometimes gets mad about it, too, I think. Sometimes I can hear her shouting about it, or something like that. She’s hard to understand when she gets really mad, so I can’t really tell. Grandma screams at the media people, too.”

The woman ran her hands through her hair. “Okay. Well then. You’ve helped me reach a decision; I don’t want none of you guys’ business. So, uh, kid-”

“Son Pan,” Pan corrected. “I wanna be Pan Satan but I’m not.”

“...Alright. Good to know. So, then, uh, Pan?”

Her name was not that hard. Pan raised her eyebrows high on her heavy forehead and put all of her sass into a condescending nod. 

“Yeah. Okay. Forget I ever came here, and, uh, we’ll pretend like your dad’s glasses magically appeared on the counter and he had overlooked them all along. Okay?” The woman pulled out a thick-rimmed pair of glasses from her purse and held them out to Pan. “Sound good?”

“Lying is not nice, Miss Anillo,” Pan’s father interjected. His daughter had seen him coming for a while but had chosen not to say anything. “I would appreciate it if you did not influence my daughter with such bad habits.” He was smiling despite his words, like everything was some kind of joke only he knew about.

The woman looked from Pan, to her father, to the glasses, and then back to Pan’s father again before she wordlessly thrust the glasses towards him.

Pan’s father took them and stuffed them into his shirt pocket. Then, he looked to his daughter. “Panny, I told you not to answer the door while I was at grandma and grandpa’s. And you’re sick, too.” He took Pan by the shoulders and steered her inside.

“But I was bored,” Pan complained. “And I can take care of myself!” Her body chose that exact moment to sneeze and cough pathetically.

“I know you can, sweetheart, but that doesn’t mean that you should just yet,” her father said.

Pan pouted, but did not argue.

“Miss Anillo, would you like to stay for lunch?” Pan’s father asked. “I have soup from my mother for Pan to eat after she gets some sleep,” he said to his daughter pointedly, “but I have other, more solid food, too, if you would like that.”

Miss Anillo looked like a deer caught in headlights. “Uh, no. No thanks. I, uh, I don’t want to, uh, catch whatever your daughter has.”

“Oh? Well, suit yourself.” Pan’s father tapped his daughter on the shoulders. “Go take a nap like a good girl so I can give you more medicine with your lunch after,” he said.

Pan dragged her feet as she went to her room and closed the door, but she disobeyed her father and kept one ear plastered to the wood.

“Thank you for bringing back my glasses, Miss Anillo,” Pan could hear her father’s voice coming through from the other side.

“...Yeah, sure,” Miss Anillo said.

Pan was almost bored of the ensuing silence when her father finally decided to break it.

“Is this all you came for? You look like you want something.”

Miss Anillo had nothing to say to that.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come in?” Pan’s father asked.

“No, I’m…” Miss Anillo trailed off. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry for everything last week. It wasn’t, um,” her shoes made a rapid, nervous tapping noise on the cement doorstep. “I’m sorry. A-and, thank you.”

“Thank… me? Excuse me?”

“I-I mean…!”

Pan’s ears were not perceptive enough to tell her what happened during this silence, and she once again had to rely on her father to keep the conversation going.

“Why don’t we go somewhere else? Would that make it easier for you to say what you want to?”

“N-no,” Miss Anillo said. “I’m, um,” the sound of shoes on cement transformed to the sound of shoes on dirt. “I’ve got to go. I, um, I have work tonight.”

“Do you have a way home? Did you drive here?”

“I used a cab. I… I don’t have a car. But, um, I’ll call another one. The one I just used will probably, uh, turn around. Maybe. Um,” Miss Anillo floundered.

“If you give me a second, I can ask my father to take you-”

Pan could practically taste the panic in Miss Anillo’s voice. “NO! No. I’ll… I’ll take care of it. It’s okay.”

“It’s perfectly fine- he’ll get you home in the blink of an eye.”

“Don’t… no, it’s really, really fine. I, um, I couldn’t do that.” Miss Anillo’s voice grew quiet.

“It really wouldn't be a problem. He’s been to Satan City before, so all he’ll need to do is-”

“I don’t want Son Goku to take me home! I don’t want to have to meet him! Ever!” Her voice came out shrill and distraught.

“Miss Anillo,” Pan’s father said, obviously taken aback, “let’s go for a walk. I’ll go ask my mom to watch Pan for a minute. Okay? Let’s have a talk.”

“You’re not my professor, professor! A-and you’re not my dad! Don’t treat me like you do your daughter!”

“I’m not, I’m not,” Pan’s father soothed. “I just want to help you. Okay?”

“N-no! I don’t,” Pan could tell that the strange woman with the purple hair was in tears. She really was weird. “Don’t help me! You’re supposed to be,” she hiccuped. “You’re a legend. Y- you’re a lie. Everything is a lie!” She inhaled sharply. “You’re impossible!”

Pan’s father sounded farther away. “No, I’m none of that. I’m a physics professor.”

The front door closed and Pan stood riveted, anxiously hoping they would come back inside and she could hear more, until her grandmother came into the house to watch her in her father’s sudden absence.

\---

Satan City’s streets were clean and colorful, and full of signage emblazoned with Pan’s World Champion of a grandfather. Well, one of them, anyway. Mark Satan was legendary, even though Pan’s mother would scowl and tell her daughter that Mark Satan was a lie. She also said that she loved him anyway.

Pan’s father, on the other hand, smiled cryptically when the subject was brought up. He said that Videl loved her father because her father loved her, and Pan should love Mark Satan, too, because he loved Pan. He said that you should forgive the people you love despite what they do regardless of whether they were a lie or a legend.

Lies and legends- that was what the strange woman who came to visit Pan’s father had been talking about, too.

Pan’s mother smiled down at her daughter as they walked down the sidewalk. “Do you want to go get something to eat, or do you want to cook something at the apartment?”

“Pizza,” Pan decided after a moment’s consideration. “I think I want pizza.”

“I know just the place,” Pan’s mother said, and guided her daughter through the streets by the hand.

They passed a parked police car, and the officer opened the door to greet them. “Oh! Videl! Is this your daughter?” He asked.

Pan’s mother grinned. “Yeah!”

“She’s gotten so big!” The officer squatted and put his hand low to the ground as if measuring air and addressed Pan. “The last time I saw you, you were knee-high to a duck, it seems like! You’re growing up to be so beautiful, just like your momma.”

“And I’m strong like she is, too!” Pan pridefully added.

Her mother nudged her affectionately. “That’s my girl. Say hello to officer Paul.”

Pan stuck out her hand for the officer to shake.

The officer grinned as he took his hand away. “I’ll bet! Nothin’ less from Hercule Satan’s family. Maybe one day, you’ll be a crime fighter, too! You got a firm grip, there.” He stood back up. “I’ll let you get on with your day. I just wanted to say hello.”

Pan and her mother waved as he got back into his car, and then continued down the street.

Instances like that were very common. Everyone here knew Videl Satan, and everyone loved her. But everyone loved Mark Satan, too, and he was lying to them all.

“Mom?” Pan asked. “You and dad both tell me that grandpa Satan is a fake,” she said. “And you both tell me that it’s always good to tell the truth. So, um, I don’t get it. Are, um,” Pan looked at the ground. She did not know how to put words to her great fear- the fear that her mother, her idol, is a liar, too.

A woman’s scream cut mother and daughter’s conversation short, and the two of them whirled around to find the source. A hooded figure was running down the sidewalk away from a very distraught woman in oversized heels, a black bag tucked under his arm.

“My purse!” The woman shouted.

Pan’s mother turned to her daughter. “Stay by the police car,” she said, and took off after the thief at lightning speed. When she caught up to the hooded man, Pan’s mother grabbed him by the back of his jacket, pulled him to her, and then pinned him to the wall of a nearby building in one smooth motion. Then, she pulled a pair of handcuffs from her back pocket and locked the thief into them.

Pan, who was watching all of this happen by the police car like a good girl, moved over as the officer opened his back door and left it ajar. 

“I can’t believe people are dumb enough to pull this kind of thing right in front of the eyes of the law,” the officer muttered. Then, he winked at Pan. “That’s your momma! She’s always one step ahead of us all. I think she does more for this city than her father ever did- but then again, I work with her, not your grandpa. They’re two different people.”

Pan smiled. She had been silly to doubt her mother’s greatness, even if only for a second. “My mom’s the real deal.”

Videl approached and, after searching the perpetrator for any concealed weapons, shoved him into the back of the police car. She had slung the stolen purse over her own arm for convenience, and now took it off and handed it to Pan. “You wanna come with me to give the lady’s purse back and ask her for her account of the incident?”

Pan nodded and trotted off, satisfied that the case was closed.

\---

Pan and her mother decided to bring the pizza home rather than eat it at the store- the media was exhausting, whenever it caught up to them- and sat at the kitchen table of Videl’s little apartment, munching on three pepperoni pizzas (and another one with vegetables, too, because Pan’s mother had insisted that they eat something healthy.)

“So,” Pan’s mother said, “what do you want to do for your birthday? Have you thought about it?”

Pan was turning seven in two months and eighteen days. She would have to ask her father to calculate the minutes and seconds for her later, because she simply could not wait to be a big girl. “I wanna throw a huge party,” Pan said. “And I wanna spar with you and grandpa.”

“Oh, you might be a little strong for your grandpa Satan,” Pan’s mother said, grinning.

“No,” Pan said. “Not him. Grandpa Goku. And Goten and Trunks, too, and I want grandma to make me a cake. With strawberries. And chocolate. And ice cream.” She finished her slice of pizza and grabbed another. “And I want a cheesecake. With more chocolate. All to myself.”

Pan’s mother nodded. “Okay. I think we can do that. We can have it in your grandpa Satan’s house, and you can invite your school friends, too, if you want to.”

“But I don’t want to have it in grandpa Satan’s house,” Pan said. “I know I’m not s’posed to tell that he didn’t really save the world, but I don’t like it. I don’t want him to come until he tells everybody the truth.”

Pan’s mother looked at the ground. “Pan, your grandpa might not ever tell everyone about what really happened. It isn’t right that he lies, but he will hurt everyone if he tells the truth. You know that, right?”

“No. Lying hurts people,” Pan insisted. “You and dad both told me that.”

“Yes,” Pan’s mother said. “But, see, the people who really saved the world don’t,” she let her gentle expression show some annoyance as she huffed, “they don’t want to be held responsible for it. They want a normal life, and they don’t want anybody to know who they are.”

“That’s what grandma and grandpa Goku say, too. I don’t get it. It’s still wrong.”

Pan’s mother folded her hands together and looked her daughter in the eyes. “Pan, the thing is, sometimes people do the wrong things for all of the right reasons. Your grandpa Satan is lying and doing something wrong, but he is helping the person who really saved the world by protecting them from all the attention. Does that make sense?”

Pan gnawed at her pizza. “Is that why grandpa Satan started lying in the first place? Is all his money like a reward for protecting?”

“...That isn’t the point.” Pan’s mother bit her lip. “What I want you to understand is that your grandpa Satan is doing something wrong, but that doesn’t make him evil or bad. Sometimes, people make mistakes, and good people do bad things.”

“But he doesn’t have to do bad things. If the person who saved the world is so strong, can’t they protect themselves? Why are they making grandpa Satan do a bad thing when he doesn’t have to?”

Pan’s mother covered her mouth with her hand. “I know your dad and I agreed that I am not to talk with you about this kind of thing until you are older, but the truth is,” she exhaled and covered her forehead instead, “I didn’t know the truth until I met the person who saved the world. I can’t say that I know the whole situation. But I don’t like any of it, either. I don’t like the lies, and I don’t like living with them.”

“Then why don’t you stop?”

Pan’s mother gave her daughter a long, hard look. “I’m trying to,” she said. “Sometimes, adults don’t always know what the best thing to do is. But I’m trying to figure that out. And, you know,” Pan’s mother played with her food a little, like she was still hungry but suddenly did not have the stomach to try to keep eating, “I don’t really like the truth about it all, either.”

Pan nodded. She liked how her mother would not hide things from her. “Dad doesn’t tell me what he thinks. Is that why you are mad at him? Because he liked the lies?”

“Huh? I’m not mad at Gohan,” Pan’s mother said. “And,” she hesitated, “he is not so upset that my father takes the credit for saving the world, no.”

“Why not?”

“Well, uh,” her mother took a drink of her water to buy time and take the edge off her frustration. “That’s an entirely different thing altogether. You’ll have to ask him about that because I really,” she cleared her throat, “that’s for Gohan to tell you.”

“Okay. But if you’re not mad at dad, can we have my birthday party at his house?” Pan asked.

Pan’s mother nodded. “Oh, of course- I mean, if that’s okay with him. That’ll be easier on Chi Chi anyway.”

“Will you come, too?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” Her mother started to box the remains of the pizza up.

Pan frowned at her mother. “When you come to dad’s, you don’t ever stay long and you always look upset.” She knew- she was watching. Her father would hide in his study on those days.

Pan’s mother put the pizza in the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of chocolate syrup and a container of strawberry cheesecake ice cream- Pan’s favorite- and two bowls. “Your dad and I aren’t ready to talk to one another yet. But that doesn’t mean we’re mad at each other. We just have too many things we want to say all at once- I do, anyway, and I don’t know if he is ready to listen to it all.”

Pan picked up her plate and glass and brought them to the kitchen sink. “When do you think he will be? Do you think you could talk to him at my birthday party?”

Pan’s mother stopped scooping ice cream and ran her hands through her daughter’s hair. “That’s up to him,” she said. “But I sure hope so.”

“Do you still love dad?” Pan looked up.

“Yeah,” her mother said. “I do.”

Pan smiled.

\---

At Pan’s birthday party, her grandmother made her a giant chocolate cake with strawberries, and another cheesecake just for her. With chocolate. Her whole entire family and classroom commuted to the side of Mount Paozu just for the occasion. 

Pan’s mother and father said seven words to one another between them.

The seventh, spoken by her father, was “goodbye”.

\---

According to her family tree, Pan’s world was one of magic and mystery, the otherworldly and the odd, and the absolutely impossible wonder of secret encounters with the third kind.

She would never have known it, though, as she watched her dad copy down numbers and equations from some book he was reading. Actually, he might have been filing taxes today or something. It was all the same boring stuff to Pan, really, and it all involved her father, books, and him writing things down either in them or from them.

She pouted from where she sat on the floor. “Dad, can I go to mom’s early?” Generally, Pan went to stay with her mother Mondays through Wednesdays, sometimes Sundays, too, but a lot of that depended on her work.

Pan’s father closed his books and smiled at her. “Do you want me to come play with you in the woods? Maybe Goten can come, too, if your Grandma hasn’t given him a lot of chores today.”

It used to give Pan a sort of thrill to be able to make her father drop whatever he was doing and get him do whatever she wanted him to do with her at the drop of a hat, but the novelty had lost its charm pretty quickly. “I wanna go see my friends in the city.”

Pan’s father nodded. “Oh, do you mean Bra, or your school friends? I can call and see if I can schedule a play date, if you want.”

“I want mom to take me.” Pan crossed her arms.

“Oh,” her father said. “Well, um, she has that big case this weekend, but,” he tilted his head towards his daughter, “is there some special reason that you want her to take you?”

Pan was a whole seven years old now and she could care less about tact. “Mom fights bad guys and you just read books all the time. You’re lame, dad. You’ll embarrass me.”

Gohan raised his eyebrows. “Oh, I see.” He stood up and pressed a button on his watch. A brightly colored costume appeared on his body in place of his khaki pants and sweater vest. “But you know,” he struck a pose. “I used to fight crime, too! I’m the Great Saiyaman!” Then, he descended on his daughter and started to tickle her. “So take that, evildoer!”

Pan swatted him away. “Stop! You look so stupid like that!” She leapt to her feet and crossed her arms. “I’m too old for that now!”

“Nonsense! You are never too old to have fun!” His cheesy superhero voice got on her nerves.

“I’m not six years old anymore, dad!” Pan shouted at him and pulled herself out of his grasp.

“You’re right! You’re a week over seven!” He grinned. “Speaking of which, why was six afraid of seven?”

“Dad!”

He pulled Pan into his lap and tried to tickle her again. “Because seven eight nine!”

Pan smacked her father in the helmet so that the visor crushed his nose and made him let go of her long enough for her to get to her feet. Then, she planted her hands on her hips and leaned down over him. “Stop that! I don’t want to play with you, and I don’t want to stay here on the mountain with you, and I don’t want you to treat me like a little kid!” She stomped her foot. “I want us to go to mom’s!”

Pan’s father took off his ridiculous superhero helmet and put it down next to him. “I’m sorry. I know things have been hard for you, sweetheart, and that isn’t fair. I was only trying to make you smile. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you were still a baby.”

Unfortunately, Pan’s temper was getting the better of her and so her father’s apology fell on deaf ears. “I don’t want to hear you say you’re sorry! That doesn’t mean anything when you say it, ‘cause you’re always sorry and you don’t ever fix things!”

Pan’s father- her stupid, timid, boring father, answered her with quiet concern. He could not get it through his head that she wanted a fight. She did not know why she wanted a fight, she only knew that she did.

Specifically, Pan wanted a fight she could win.

“Pan, what’s really bothering you? You can talk to me,” her father coaxed. “I don’t want you to feel so upset inside.”

“I don’t want to talk to you!” Pan shouted. “I want--! I want--!” She sniffled. “I don’t even like you! I don’t know why mom married you in the first place since you don’t ever do what we want!”

Her father held his arms out to his little girl. “Pan, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” he told her. “I can’t read your mind, but I’m always here for you. Come here.” He tried to pull her into an embrace. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

Pan shoved him away and stormed to her room. “No, it won’t,” she shouted, and slammed her door.

\---

About ten minutes later, give or take, Pan heard a knock on her window.

“Go away!” Pan shouted through her pillow and did not look up from where she had pressed her face into it. “I don’t wanna talk to you, Goten!” Sometimes, her little uncle liked to let himself in so that they could play. He was more like her pesky older brother, really.

“Goten?” The hinges of the window creaked as it opened and the voice of Pan’s grandfather came in through it. “But I’m not Goten!”

Pan curled up into her pillow so maybe he would not be able to see that she was crying.

“Do I still have to go away, or can I come in?” Pan’s grandfather asked. “Normally I’d just come on in anyway ‘cause this is a window and not the door, but Bulma always tells me I should ask anyway.”

Pan nodded into her pillow, and her grandfather’s weight sank into her mattress as the springs squeaked.

“Does that pillow smell good, or somethin’?”

“No,” Pan gave her grandfather attitude. “That’s stupid, grandpa.”

“Naw, that’s not stupid! That’s a pillow.”

“Stop being like that!” Pan lifted her face and shouted.

Her grandfather pulled her into his lap and Pan did not do anything about it except cling to his shirt. “Like what?”

“You just joke about everything and it sounds like dad!” She shook her head against her grandfather’s broad chest. “I don’t like that! I hate him!”

“You hate him?” Pan’s grandfather stroked her hair. “But... that’s a little much, don’tcha think?”

“No!” Pan wailed. She needed her grandfather to understand. “He doesn’t do anything! He just sits there and smiles and acts like everything's okay!” Sometimes, she wished her grandpa Goku were her father, not Son Gohan, because he could do anything. “And he-!” She trailed off into another fit of sobs.

Pan’s grandfather rubbed her back and hugged her close. “I’m sorry you’re so sad,” he said, and stayed with her until she fell asleep.

\---

The next week, Pan’s father left Krillin and Marron to stay with Pan.

His daughter heard him mention Miss Anillo to her babysitter from behind a closed door, and suddenly, everything clicked.

Pan decided that hate really was the word for what she felt, but who exactly she felt it towards, she could not say.


	3. Thank You For Your Honesty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Videl meets some bitch with purple hair.

Videl’s apartment was modest, but it was not her father’s, not her husband’s, and rented with Videl’s own money. Everything in it was bought with her own money, too. She had her own job. 

She had her own friends, too, even though they were consistently late to their lunch dates.

Videl checked the time. If she left her apartment now, she would arrive at the cafe fifteen minutes later than planned, meaning, about ten minutes earlier than Erasa- give or take a few. If she dawdled on her way there, however, Videl could probably avoid the wait time altogether. It sounded like a good plan, and so she grabbed her jacket and went with it.

The day was clear and balmy, and Videl took advantage of the weather and free time by window shopping. The furniture showcase and the designer handbag store did not catch her eye, but the larger stuffed animals and dolls waving to her from behind the panes of the toy store on Satan Boulevard managed to grab her attention. 

Pan was like her mother in that she was not much one for girly toys, but she did have the same affinity for plushes that Gohan did. Videl reached for the door.

On second thought, Videl had gotten Pan a pile of birthday presents just last week.

Videl again looked through her own reflection spreading over the window panes. She spotted an action figure of her father sitting front and center on the other side of the glass. He was the poster boy for a series of martial artist action figures.

In fact, the display featured not only Mark Satan, but figures of all the competitors from the last Tenkaichi Budokai. Videl stared at it a little more critically.

Her replica father’s plastic grin managed to look even less sincere than the real thing.

She blew him off and peered more intently into the window to see if there were figures of the competitors from tournaments past- Pan would surely find enjoyment out of a novelty action figure of herself. 

...So what if Videl had just forbidden herself from giving her daughter another present? This would not just be any present- it would be a tiny statue of Pan! She would love it! Maybe Videl would have a figure in the display somewhere and could get that, too. After all, she had competed in the adult division. Once.

Everyone loved having an ego boost from time to time.

No such luck. All Videl could see was the fake cheer on her tiny, idolized father. She found it condescending and annoying, and felt her cheeks flush deeper the longer she lingered in front of the window.

She had not spoken to the World Champion- not more than a few pleasantries at a time, anyway- since her divorce was finalized. The thought of continuing a staring contest with his visage did not appeal to Videl much, either.

She turned away from her father’s plastic legacy with a defiant toss of her ponytail.

Mark Satan- the real one- was paranoid that his fortune would be ripped away from the Satan estate, or that the Sons would come kill both father and daughter in their sleep, or something, and Videl’s declaration that she would be living on her own only stoked the flames of his overbearing nature. He had insisted she do otherwise, but Videl’s determination to stay out of the clutches of a man- any man, at this point- proved the stronger motivator.

She kicked at a nearby soda container that was sullying the otherwise neat sidewalk. It landed neatly in the trash can to her right.

If her father had been honest about everything in the first place, he would have no need to act like such a frightened caricature of his old self- and Gohan would not have gotten so comfortable hiding beneath the shadow of a mouse!

Did that make her a mouse, too, for getting caught in the middle?

Videl, she wanted to be large. Larger than life. Bigger than all the lies and all the secrets, and just plain better in every way. She just did not know how yet. It made her want to grind her teeth and hit something.

She browsed inside the boutique next to the restaurant she planned to meet Erasa at while she sulked. None of the clothes on the women’s racks were really her style, though. She absently wandered to where the men’s section quietly sat behind the rows and rows of party dresses and shirts made of nothing but lace. Then, she noticed the display of neckties and felt compelled to pick one up.

Videl and Pan always played a game of guessing which tie Gohan would like best. He was partial to the loudest colors and tackiest patterns, so the real challenge was finding the ugliest combination of both. 

Videl’s daughter had an incriminating talent for winning every round.

Pan had not acted too keen on playing for Gohan’s benefit the last time mother and daughter were together, though. Videl figured that the two of them had gotten into some kind of fight and that Pan was waiting for her father to raise some challenge against her behavior.

Videl frowned. Gohan was no good with confrontation, and he almost never answered back with it. He would shrink back from the fight and try to solve it before it came to a head; Gohan could not fathom the idea that sometimes, people just wanted to be mad, or that they fought because it showed that they were passionate about something- instead of being a dead fish.

Videl put the tie back on the table and decided she had dawdled on Erasa’s behalf long enough. She had just turned around to leave the way she came in when her phone rang. 

It was a text, and from Erasa. She was bringing someone along.

Videl rolled her eyes and told her best friend that she was not interested in meeting Erasa’s newest boyfriend and his brother or cousin or best single friend.

Erasa’s disappointment was palpable over the airwaves. Double dates were more like hanging out, not like anything serious! Videl should learn what it meant to casually hang out with a boy who did not cry when she decided to move on with her life!

Videl’s best friend was vicious in the most innocent and, more importantly, honest of ways. That was part of why Videl liked her even now, after high school was over and neither of them had to be friends out of necessity of seeing one another every day for eight hours a day. Still, she told Erasa to have fun on her date and that they could do lunch another time.

To which Erasa responded with text faces and a promise to give Videl updates of where they were throughout the day in case she changed her mind.

Videl sighed and put away her phone. Maybe, since she was going to be eating by herself today, she should go to that burger place that she and Erasa consistently agreed to disagree on.

She rolled her neck as she considered her options, and then stopped when she realized that she was being watched.

A woman with purple hair- Videl swore that she recognized her from somewhere- stood in the lingerie section wearing the same face Pan made when she was caught eating candy before dinner time. Then, she snapped her head back down to focus on the rack in front of her and busied herself with rifling through the brassieres and underwear.

Normally, Videl would shrug this kind of thing off- people ogled celebrities and that was unfortunately the way her life went- but she must have gotten a wild hair over it this time because she strode right up to the woman to engage her.

“Hey,” Videl said. “You. Miss.”

The woman’s green earrings glinted in the light as she peeked back up at Videl with a sudden poker face. “Yeah?”

“Don’t I know you?”

“...We met once, yeah. But everyone knows who you are while I’m pretty easy to forget, so...”

Videl shook her head. “No, I mean- didn’t we go to school together? You were in the other class, weren’t you?”

The woman leered at Videl. “Maybe so, maybe no. That’s not really important, though, is it?” She turned her attention back to the rack. Specifically, she looked back down at the neglige in her hands. It was much more risqué than Videl would prefer, personally. She eyed the other underwear in the woman’s basket critically. It was mundane and conservative by comparison. One pair had kittens on it and another had tiny rolls of sushi. “Is that not a good enough answer?” The woman mumbled.

That sardonic, brisk attitude jogged Videl’s memory and made her temper spike. “Hey, don’t get all huffy. You were the one staring at me,” she said. “I just wanted to be polite and say hello.” 

The woman’s frown dissolved into a sigh. “Yeah, yeah, I was in the other class, okay? That’s all. You got me. Sorry for staring. Now if you’ll excuse me, all I wanna do is buy this underwear, and then leave before I have to go and meet--” a switch flipped somewhere behind the woman’s eyes, and an idea dawned on her. “Say,” her voice was suddenly a lot sweeter than it had been a second ago. “You recognized me.”

Videl nodded. Not everyone was brave enough to tell Videl to her face that her father was a fraud. “It’s hard to forget people with hair quite like yours,” she said instead.

Videl almost thought she had struck a nerve, but then her old classmate started laughing instead. “Oh, you’re still just as spunky as they come, huh?” She held up the neglige to her body, and then pulled another one off of the rack and put it up side-by-side to the first one while she compared them. “As one girl to another, which one would you wear if you were gonna impress someone, huh? You more a sultry red lace type, or do the cutesy bows and more innocent ones do better, in your opinion?” The woman’s lipstick highlighted the whiteness in her smile.

Videl was taken aback. “Why would you ask me?”

The woman smiled wider. “Because you’re not just honestly brutal, but brutally honest. You’ll tell me which one makes me look like a fat sow and which one just makes me look like a whore, right?” She chuckled. “That’s really all I want to know at this point.”

“I don’t even need to get that ugly about it,” Videl countered. “You’re doing a fine job of that all on your own, lady.”

The woman laughed louder. “You don’t even remember my name, do you?”

Videl knew she was turning pink at the completely true accusation. “Why does that matter?”

“You’re right! It doesn't! It doesn't.” The woman gestured back to the nightgowns. “But still. I’m waiting on an answer. Inquiring minds want to know.”

“You can’t decide on your own?”

Videl’s old classmate brushed aside her purple hair with a toss of her head. “No. I can’t. But more than that, I wanna know which one tickles your fancy so that I know which one not to wear.”

Nature had bestowed upon Videl both an exceptionally modest persuasion and a modest endowment. She scrutinized the choices and then crossed her arms. “I’m not the kind who needs to resort to that sort of thing. I can impress all on my own, thank you.” Gohan probably would have preferred the cuter one, or for her to have worn just her regular night shirt.

The woman flashed more teeth. “Lingerie is also for you, not just for someone else. Which one, Videl?”

Videl eyed her competition’s body and felt under qualified to participate in this discussion by comparison, but she would not dare let this familiar stranger win. “If it’s for you, then why did you ask what I would wear to impress somebody else, huh?”

“Because what impresses you the most on your body is probably also what's most impressive to someone else too, duh!”

Videl had never thought about it that way. She considered lying. “Th-that’s a very egotistical way of looking at it, don’t you think?”

“Oh? Is that a problem for you? Sharing what’ll make you happy instead of keeping it a secret?”

“What?” Videl huffed and chose the answer that she thought would get this woman off her back. “The lace.”

The woman nodded, and put the lace neglige back on the rack. “So you’re into packaging rather than actual substance. Okay. Cutesy it is, then.”

“Hey!” The protest was out of Videl’s mouth before she could put her temper in check. “That isn’t what I said!”

“Yeah,” the woman answered, letting one green eye train itself on Videl, “but it’s easy to tell when you’re lying.”

“Lying? Lying?!” Videl ground her teeth. “You listen here-!”

The woman cut her off by holding the neglige out over Videl’s torso. “It doesn't really suit you, though. Hm.” She pulled the lace one back out to model on Videl, too, and then clicked her tongue. “No, neither of them do. There was some truth to what you were saying, after all. That makes this a little harder.”

“Don’t ignore me!” Videl retaliated, shoving the nightgown out of the way.

“Wow. Excuse me,” the woman said. “I was trying to be nice and see this from your point of view. Sorry I actually listened to you earlier, geez.” She collected the pile of lace up from the floor and put it back in its rightful place.

Videl’s fists were clenched and she was itching for some way to let off some steam. “Where do you get off, acting like this, huh?”

“I asked a question. That’s not a criminal offense, is it?”

“You think you’re real smart, huh, you...” the lack of a name was really getting on Videl’s nerves, “...person!”

The woman snickered. “That’s scathing. But seriously. What do you do when you’re trying to look tempting?” Her eyes flashed to match the exact hue of her poison green earrings. “What did you do with your boy toy when you wanted to play, huh?”

Videl’s mind immediately associated Gohan with the question. “That’s none of your business!”

“You don’t have to get so defensive,” the woman said. “Oh! I’ve got a better idea. Actual outfits. Let’s go look at those.” She strode over to the clothing department. “What’s appropriate for a first date, d’ya think?”

“Don’t you walk away from me, you-!”

The woman whirled around and stopped Videl in her tracks. “Videl. Focus. I asked you what you wear on dates. We can have a catfight later. I’ve only got like half an hour before I have to leave to go put on whatever I pick out, and I’m not about to waste it.”

“How should I know!” She sneered. “It’s supposed to be whatever you want since it’s also for you, right?” Gohan had always been exceptionally excited to see Videl no matter what she wore. He had been great for her self-esteem.

“Yeah, but what do you like that makes somebody else like you, too?”

“...Are you seriously asking me to dress you?”

The woman snorted. “It’s not like I have anybody else to ask for a second opinion.”

Videl grabbed two pieces off of a rack and tossed them at her pushy companion. “Here. Happy? I’ve helped you.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “These are two pairs of pants. I don’t think you’re really thinking this out.”

“It’s not like I offered to help you!” Videl retorted.

“And it’s not like I asked you to start talking to me in the first place. But, yanno, while you’re here, did your man like a lady in the streets, or-”

“Why would I know that?!” Videl cried.

“Maybe you asked?” Her old classmate dryly suggested. “God forbid you listen to someone else besides yourself.”

“For your information, I did ask, but he never said!” Videl shot back.

The woman shrugged. “Maybe he didn’t know. Did you try different things?”

“I dunno! I cut my hair once because he mentioned something about it, but he didn’t seem interested in it either way!”

The familiar stranger turned around, perplexed. “He told you to cut your hair?”

“He never told me anything! I just did it because he said I might want to think about it when I was fighting, and so-”

The woman pulled out a short dress and examined how low the back fell. “So if he’d have even so much as broached the topic of, like, I dunno, a hole in the head, would you have given him one and assumed that was what made him happy?”

“I was talking. Did you want to actually listen to me or did you just want to keep me around and pretend like you understand?”

“I dunno. Did you?”

Videl’s nostrils flared and she snatched the dress out of the woman’s hands. “Excuse me?!”

“Yeah, classic black is probably smarter than the red. But that’s…boring. Color. I want color. Maybe… green. Say, what’s the general consensus on the color green?”

“I don’t know! And I don’t care!” Videl was aware of the growing number of salespeople and patrons gaping at the two of them. She hated being inconveniently famous. “This is not what I wanted to accomplish by talking to you. I’m leaving.” Videl turned on her heel and stomped off.

“Hey,” the woman’s voice followed her.

Videl hated that she took the bait and turned around. “What?!”

The woman was looking at her with an unreadable expression. “Thank you for your honesty.” Then, she smiled a predator’s smile and sauntered over to the jewelry section.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Both of these girls are sarcastic and bitchy as crap and I just stopped writing in italics for this because Ao3 wants me to code like every single italicized word. That was going to take literally forever and also I don't know how to check if I have screwed it up, so....
> 
> I think the inflection still comes through, though. Tell me if it is difficult to read.
> 
> Also, I would like to note that to make this a functioning story, I've had to really highlight the drama of everyone's flaws. Videl's childishness, selfishness, and desire for glory (not unlike her dad....) are A Thing, but I do not think they are the end-all-be-all to her character. Sevoya just exacerbates those qualities because Sevoya is actually shitty most of the time.


	4. Getting Ahead of Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gohan, you're an idiot.

The apartment complex on the perimeter of Satan City was dated by both its faded coloring and wear and tear, but it was clean and sturdy. Gohan clenched his fists and counted the steps to the floor Sevoya’s apartment was on.

He could not understand why he was so nervous- he had met this woman before, and she already knew his great, big, world-changing secret, so what was there to be afraid of, anyway? She even knew about Pan, too, and that was the real deal breaker. Besides, he and Sevoya had already…

He felt himself turn pink and turned on his heel away from the door.

Nevermind that Sevoya had come to his house and broken down into tears, or that she had slapped him when he had tried to make her stop crying. And nevermind that his visit today was nothing more than a desperate bid to explain to her about the truth of the day the world was spared from Cell- and why Sevoya did not have any reason to be afraid of Gohan or his father. The how and the why of his visit did not matter.

No. What it boiled down to- really, in the grand scheme of things- was that Gohan had engaged in intercorse with a woman he barely knew, he had enjoyed it, and now he was coming back to her house where they may or may not engage in the same kind of activities again. 

Not that he was hoping for that. But it was, after all, a possibility.

And they were not even engaged!

He swallowed down guilt mixed with something else he could not identify and wondered why the whole experience felt so much like facing down alien monsters that wanted to kill him. His grand total of one date in high school had not felt like this- so why did he feel this way now? Why with this girl? Why had he never been this frazzled with Videl? He wiped his palms on his shirt. Possible companionship was not worth fraying all of his nerves.

Gohan berated himself once again, stopped in his tracks, and then redirected his course back up the stairs. 

He could not run away just because something scared him. He had done enough of that as a child. He was a man now, with responsibilities and a daughter and a divorce and his own house.

If he was going to have a girlfriend, too, he had to go and fight that dragon himself.

A girlfriend. Not a fiancé, not a wife, not an ex wife. A girlfriend that he himself asked- not manipulated, not blackmailed, but asked- on a date. And she had said yes. This was new territory in and of itself.

What if she had changed her mind?

Gohan turned around to go back down the stairs again, and then made another U-turn back up them.

But Sevoya was not really his girlfriend, even, and this was not really a date. That had been the whole point. They were only going to talk.

That was all. Talk.

He planted himself in front of the door and reached for the handle.

Wait. Maybe he should bring some more flowers as another apology. No, he had done that last time, the night that he broke her chair. Maybe chocolate? He should turn around and go buy her a box of chocolates. Did she have a favorite kind? Maybe he should buy a sampler, to be safe. But what if she was allergic to chocolate? Gohan racked his brain for a memory of her eating chocolate at any point during her time as his student.

“Oh,” said a voice to his left. “You’re already here.”

Gohan turned and discovered Sevoya with two shopping bags in her hands.

“Oh! Hi! Um,” he smiled. “I’m a little, uh, early.”

“You said you would be here at five,” Sevoya said.

“Y-yeah, I just wanted to make sure I didn’t, um, keep you waiting.”

“It’s not even four,” she deadpanned.

“I-I, um,” Gohan noticed that his hands were dominating the conversation and instead twiddled his thumbs. “I didn’t want to be late.”

“Uh-huh.”

“The, um, the early bird gets the worm, and all.”

Sevoya snorted. “You’re creepy.”

And Gohan winced. “N-no! I didn’t mean, U-um,” he swallowed. “I was afraid I would talk myself out of coming if I wasn’t early,” he admitted, studying his shoes. Then, he gave her face a shy glance. “I didn’t think about it when you brought my glasses back to my house, but-”

Sevoya pursed her lips and produced her keys from her purse. “Whatever,” she said, and unlocked her door.

Gohan watched her enter and let the door fall closed behind her. Perhaps he should wait in the cafe next door to the complex for an hour. Or go buy the chocolates, or a toy, or something just so that he did not feel so woefully unprepared for this.

Sevoya’s green eyes and earrings shone through the dark of her apartment, both harsh and beckoning all at once. “Well? Are you coming in, or are you just gonna stand there and block my door?

Gohan jolted upright and followed her inside, and then closed the door behind him. Sevoya turned on a lamp and walked past the kitchen to sit on the replacement chair Gohan had bought for her in her living room. She put down her bags, crossed her legs, then her arms, and watched him.

The way her green eyes locked onto him as he journeyed further and further into the dim light made him feel even more nervous than he already was. Gohan wondered if he should sit in the smaller chair next to hers or if he should remain standing until she invited him to do so.

“You can sit or stand, I don’t care. But you had better say whatever it is you came here to say, or else I’ll find something else for you to do with my time.”

Gohan jammed his hands into his pockets. “Miss Anillo, I…” he swallowed. He had been practicing this to himself all week, but somehow his words were as reluctant to come out of his mouth as they would have been even without rehearsal.

“Professor, those who can’t do teach, and those who can’t teach work the service industry. So spit it out before I’m forced to hire you.”

“You own the restaurant? I thought…”

“I don’t. I do everything else. But that’s not the point.” Sevoya lifted her chin. “You are the one who wanted to come here and talk to me so badly. So what, professor? What do you have to say to me?”

“I, um, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry,” Gohan said.

“That’s it? You already said that. Like three times, at this point.”

“No, I mean,” he dug his nails into his leg through the lining of his pockets. “I’m sorry that my father’s identity upset you. I’m sorry that, um, my identity upset you. I only wanted you to know that we won’t hurt you, and that, um,” he nodded, “we let Mark- Hercule Satan, that is- take the credit for everything so that we could live normal lives,” he finished. “We never wanted the public attention, so-”

“So you married the girl who lived smack dab in the middle of it and did the one thing that made sure you got exactly what you say didn’t want,” Sevoya finished.

“I…”

“You should’ve known. Celebrity marriages never last very long, professor. Or did Videl do all the shopping so you never even had to look at the celebrity gossip lining the magazine racks at checkout?”

“W-well, I myself am hardly a celebrity, and I always thought Videl would be-”

Sevoya leaned forward in her chair, and her voice raised from a hiss to something more ragged. “You’re hardly a celebrity, but your face was plastered all over every television screen in the entire world on the day that--!” she slammed her fists onto the armrests of her chair and dug her nails in. Gohan could smell the newness of the fabric scattering into the air from the friction.

“I never meant to upset you,” Gohan took a step forward, his every move and word tentative.

“And you thought that little bit of news wouldn’t?! Well! I never meant to have the Delivery Boy himself calling on me, but look where we are now,” she said.

“I know it’s a bit much, but I didn’t want to, um, to, well, lead… lead you on without telling you that I-”

“Lead me on?!” Sevoya uncrossed her legs and thrust herself forward onto her chair, livid. “I told you- it was a one night stand! I did not ask to know anything about you. I did not want to know anything about you! You are the one who forced that knowledge upon me!”

Gohan pulled his hands from his pockets and clasped and unclasped them before finally reaching for Sevoya’s shoulders. The look on her face made him think better of it, though, and so he laced his fingers back together. “I just thought,” he traced the pattern on the chair’s upholstery with his eyes.”

“You thought? You overthought. You’re an idiot.”

Maybe. Gohan closed his eyes and rubbed his temples while Sevoya sat back in her chair and glowered at him. 

“Is that all you came here an hour before I wanted you to to say?” she spat at him through gritted teeth.

“Well, yes,” Gohan said, all the while wondering if that was the truth. “I told you that if, um, if you wanted me to, I would explain to you. About… about what happened. Or, if you needed to see, I would show you that, I, um, was telling the truth.”

“I don’t want to see.” Sevoya glowered, her eyes as bright as her earrings. “You said a lot of things to me, but all I told you was that you could visit today. I never said I wanted to talk.”

Gohan swallowed as he willfully stepped out onto thin ice. “Then, why, um, why are you letting me talk now?”

If it were possible, the low light of the room made Sevoya’s eyes turned an even more sinister color as she sized him up.

“You look nice,” she said, her ire now masked by something sweeter. “You even wore a blazer and a tie.” She smiled then, with teeth. “I feel very underdressed.” Then, she took off her shoes and stood up, slowly, and let her hands lead her ascent by dragging them up Gohan’s stomach and then his chest.

Her fingers deftly loosened Gohan’s tie. “That’s better, right?” She cooed. He breath was warm.

“I’m,” he inhaled, “excuse me, I’m sorry. I was not trying to impose on you or make you-”

Sevoya kissed him. It was softer and slower than the ones she had given him the first time he had stood in this apartment. He resisted for a second, but then leaned into it. Sevoya smelled like her shampoo, and a kitchen, and the streets of the city, and for a moment he could have sworn he could smell Videl in there, too. Surely he was losing his mind, but he put his arms around her and kissed harder because of it all the same.

During the third kiss, probably- he had not been counting- Gohan realized exactly how lonely he was.

Sevoya eventually made him let her go and flashed him a smug smile. “Help me change,” she said, and worked his fingers down the buttons of her blouse.

He slid it off her torso when it was open and pressed his nose into her neck. Sevoya smelled more like herself, now, but he still unbuttoned her pants like she asked him and let them drop to the floor.

He swirled the pads of his fingers against her hips and worked up his courage to slide them into her underwear with a few more kisses to her lips. She was softer and curvier than Videl, and taller.

“Don’t make me do everything,” Sevoya threatened, and ran her fingers through Gohan’s hair. “I’ve still got socks on.” She bit his ear and he gave her another kiss in return.

Gohan gently pushed her back into the armchair, wrapping her tongue with his all the way, and let his hands wander wherever they wanted to on their way down her legs and to the elastic of her socks.

He tugged at her underwear next, and she laughed at him. “You don’t like games?” She asked, pushing his head down between her breasts. “You don’t like to play?” Sevoya undid his belt and pants next.

Gohan moaned and reached for the hook of her bra. Sevoya grabbed beneath the fabric of his pants and between his legs and he accidentally ripped the metal fasteners of her bra out in surprise. 

“Ah,” he said, pushing his fingers beneath the cups and onto her breasts. “‘M sorry.” He followed behind his fingers with kisses. 

Sevoya toyed with him a little more and then decided to cup his face with her hands instead. Her smile was pretty, but her tone was not. “Shut up.”

Gohan moved her bra out of the way and then pressed his face more deeply into her breasts. He nipped at them as he inhaled her scent and ignored the fact that his glasses had fogged up. He felt Sevoya pluck them from his face while his tongue hunted for a nipple and captured it.

Instead of letting him keep what he found, Sevoya turned her body to the side so that her breast rolled away, and then moved back when he pursued. Gohan whined and grew sloppy with his tongue and hands. He loved the taste of someone else’s skin, he realized, and how warm another body was against his own, and how much he wanted to have someone to hold and kiss and make love to. 

He slid one of her thighs between where his legs met and pressed against her.

“Please,” he whispered, reaching his face up to kiss hers.

She kissed back and pulled his hips against her leg. Gohan hissed and sighed, unsure whether he should curse or sing, and pushed his fingers into her underwear.

“Please,” he repeated, grinding against her, slow and steady. “Please touch me,” he begged. “I need someone. I don’t like living and pretending that it’s okay that nobody really knows me.”

“Gohan,” Sevoya sighed into him and kissed him, and the sound of his real name coming out of her mouth made him decide that he could love this girl and never let her go if she would have him. “Gohan,” she repeated after another kiss, “I... have to tell you something.”

He drank in her green eyes as they took him in and swallowed him whole. “What is it?” he asked, soft and urgent, and surrounded by her smell.

Sevoya’s sweetly parted lips and gentle moans turned to sharp, white teeth and acid green earrings. “I don’t really give a shit,” she said, and thrust her knee into his crotch as hard as she could.

He cried out and went limp as she unceremoniously pushed him off onto the floor.

“I asked you to help me change,” Sevoya said. “And I’m hungry. I want dinner from somewhere that isn’t where I work, and if you’re gonna insist on taking up my day off, then we are going to do what I want.”

Gohan craned his head to look over at her as she pulled something out of one of her shopping bags and threw it on over her head.

“Besides, your ex wife really struggled over helping me pick out what to wear today, and I’m not about to let her hard work go to waste just because you got ahead of yourself, _professor._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always for reading and leaving a comment.


End file.
